Bittersweet Memories
by erinski
Summary: [I wanna run and escape from your prison, but when I leave I feel like something is missing] After Tim and Lyla spend the night together, Lyla is focusing on her relationship with Jason.. but Lyla and Tim find they can't quit each other, not even when the lies and drama begins.


"Why haven't you visited him in the hospital? He's your _best friend! _He won't be able to w-w-walk again and you're just sitting there in your h-h-house drinking beer while he's in a _wheelchair! Why haven't you visited him?!"  
_Her hands formed into fists, punching against his chest. For a small girl, she could hit hard. He tried to grab her tiny hands, her angel hands, and reassure her but she was too hysterical. She kept hitting him and he took every blow, knowing he deserved each and every single one. "You're his best friend!" she wailed again, in continuous sobs. She leant her forehead under his throat as she cried, her hands now clasped up to his chest, the fight in her gone. More sobs escaping, her mouth was inches away from his as she brought her head up, still crying.  
He touched her lips with his, a brush. A brush which turned into more.  
Tim shouldn't be kissing Lyla.

Lyla opened her eyes to the harsh light of morning, trying to get in through the crack in the curtain. Squinting, she eased her heavy body upright, her tiny frame bearing the weight of the pain she felt every day. Jason, her boyfriend, was now paralysed. All because of football. She closed her eyes, trying not to let tears escape. Jason had thrown her out his room – he had been pushed to the limit with his injuries and the realisation he would never walk again… and all Lyla had tried to do was make him feel better – she had done the exact opposite.  
She looked down and her heart dropped.  
Now she had gone and slept with Jason's best friend.  
Tim was asleep, his long dark hair matted around the pillow. Lyla had never really associated herself with Tim before. He was into alcohol and girls – but his position as a Fullback was what made him seem more human. The position he played in football showed he did have some commitment, some dedication to _something._ Lyla's eyes roamed over him. The way he had held her last night, his kisses fierce and hot one minute, the next they were like butterflies drifting down her skin, down her stomach and hips and down to her…  
Lyla cleared her throat and let that thought disappear. Those kind of thoughts HAD to disappear. She felt sick. In fact, she was going to _be_ sick.  
Running into the bathroom across the hall, she settled against the toilet and let the insides of her stomach come out. All the pain, guilt, everything, came out. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the events of last night just rushed back. She had cheated on Jason, the boy she loved. If he _ever _found out – he couldn't. She would die.  
She began sobbing, her entire body shaking as she threw up some more. Then she felt warm, strong hands on her shoulders and Tim's body against her back, his arms cradling her as she rested her forehead on the edge of the seat. "Shh, it's okay honey…" he murmured. He rubbed her back, her shoulder blades.  
"I am not your honey," Lyla spat venomously. Tim drew in a short breath and let her insult him. "You slept with your best friend's GIRLFRIEND. We're both to blame but you- IT'S SO TYPICAL OF YOU!"  
She shouted all this while he held her, the tip of his chin resting in the crook of her neck. She didn't shake him off. She wiped her tears away and settled back against his chest. She could feel his heart hammering against her. "This isn't going to happen again," she stated. Tim nodded.  
"Okay Tim?"  
"Okay Lyla."

He drove her to school. Lyla kept her attention focused on the window, gazing out at the fields that passed them. Tim would occasionally glance over to look at her, but it was pointless. She didn't communicate.  
He tried to erase memories from last night – the way she sighed as he kissed down her stomach, the way her hands gripped his hair, the way she shouted his name as he was inside her. God, being inside her. He remembered when Lyla had straddled him, her hips moving slowly, grinding against his, her hot breath on his neck, how aroused she had been. It was a side to her he had obviously never seen before. Lyla had been let loose, allowed to destroy her boundaries. Tim had loved seeing her not care about anything. He could feel himself drifting off into his imagination and remembered he was driving – plus Lyla was sitting right beside him in the passenger seat.  
He cleared his throat.  
"So, erm… what class you got first?"  
"English."  
"Cool… what you doing in it?"  
"Reading _To Kill A Mockingbird_."  
"Awesome."  
"Yeah."  
Silence. Painful, awkward silence.  
"What's your first class?" she asked.  
Tim smiled. At least she was joining him in trying to make conversation, no matter how awful it was. "I got practice."  
"Great. You excited?"  
Lyla closed her eyes, feeling like an idiot. Why the hell would Tim be excited for practice? He never got excited for anything.  
He could sense she felt stupid, so answered her question without making her feel dumb. "Not excited but I always like practice. Coach Taylor is actually a cool guy."  
"Really? I think his speeches are too long."  
He laughed. "Sure, they're long but damn, they're motivational."  
Lyla smiled a little and felt relief swim over her as they reached the school parking lot. Tim reversed quickly into the space, not caring if the truck was squint.  
"So, I'll see you," Lyla said, wanting out the truck as fast as possible. She turned to smile at him. "Enjoy practice."  
He kissed her.  
It was a hard, long kiss, like he had been storing it up to suddenly hit her with it. He broke away from her, trying not to laugh at her wide, shocked eyes.  
"Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose," he said with a smile.


End file.
